


It’s you holding me together

by Taeyn



Series: I have loved the stars too fondly [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Affection, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Lotor joins team voltron, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Season 4, Sharing a Bed, Sleepless nights, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeyn/pseuds/Taeyn
Summary: Lance can’t sleep. Lotor can’t sleep. They keep running into each other around the castle.





	It’s you holding me together

**Author's Note:**

> for [@invidiaesc](https://invidiaesc.tumblr.com/) ~ wishing you happy 2018!!! c: ♡♡♡♡

It’s lack of sleep that starts it. Intelligence gathering. Alliance building. Too few missions and too many thoughts, and then when they do encounter a patrol, too much adrenaline after the fact.

That’s what Lance tells himself at least, as he wanders around the empty passages of the castle. He takes a different route every night-cycle, feels a small win in the fact he can now find his way without luck, that the spaceship's quirks and corners have started to feel like home.

“That’s a dead end,” Lance yawns cheerfully, when their newest ally stalks purposefully past him at a crosspoint.

He can hear the hesitation in Lotor’s step- he doesn’t want to redirect on Lance’s word alone, but he’ll feel foolish if he has to turn around and walk right back moments later.

“But there’s a nice viewport halfway down,” Lance adds, half to give Lotor an out, half because it’s true…

...and maybe a little bit to peeve him, because Lance totally knows about it first.

Lotor gives a low huff, which could fall anywhere between _I don’t care_ , and _I’ll confirm that for myself, thank you very much_.

He continues down the passage without a second glance. Lance finishes his stretches on the wall, listens for when Lotor’s footsteps stop.

“Like it?” Lance hollers.

“Think I haven’t seen a view from space before?” Lotor’s clipped tone echoes in answer.

“You’re welcome!” Lance grins, lifts a hand in parting as he walks the other way. “Catcha round. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Agreed.”

Lance stifles another yawn, can’t help grinning again. Lotor’s glare apparently doesn’t lose any venom even when he can’t see it.

“Night night then. Don’t let the bed-bugs bite,” Lance calls, then ruffles his hair and frowns. Given the kind of space creatures he’s encountered over the past who-knows-how-long…

“Hey, Prince Lo?” he tries, pops his head back around the corner.

“I will never answer to that,” comes the snap, an irritated hiss.

“I was kidding about the bed-bugs,” says Lance. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing in the castle that bites.”

“Want a bet?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Lance laughs, far sleepier and more relaxed for the late night venture. He resists the urge to point out that for someone who’s seen a view from space before, Lotor’s still standing at the window, he’s even uncrossed his arms.

Lotor narrows his eyes, then raises a finger in some approximation of a goodbye.

Back in this bedroom, Lance collapses on his bed with his slippers on and forgets to brush his teeth. For the first time in weeks, he doesn’t wake.

 

-

 

“Pyjamas?” Lance gapes, incredulous, it’s not two night-cycles before their paths cross again. “I thought you must’ve received a summons to the royal ball!”

Lotor, for all his dark fabrics and intricate seams, does look somewhat more at ease in his nightwear, though the shadows beneath his eyes are almost as deep as Lance’s.

“Ah, you as well,” Lotor says crisply, flicks a glance over the worn-out bathrobe Lance bartered down to 150 GAC. “Though I see here we have the past-midnight iteration.”

“Hey! Mud-masks in your good dressing gown is a rookie error!” Lance returns, his gesturing nearly causing him to spill his tea. He now sorely regrets having removed the mask before his walk- what he wouldn’t have given to see Lotor’s look of suppressed horror.

They walk side by side, Lotor rubbing his eyes and Lance blowing into the steam from his mug. Lance takes a small sip, then has to swallow quickly as it hits him.

“Woah, wait a second there-” Lance turns in astonishment. Lotor offers a raised eyebrow.

“The _past-midnight iteration?_ Top marks for an Earth cultural reference,” Lance nudges Lotor’s arm, genuinely warmed. “I couldn’t be more proud than if the four moons set in opposite directions!”

Lotor, who had been harbouring a rather bored and scathing expression, abruptly looks just as surprised.

“That,” Lotor huffs eventually, his mouth twitches at the corners. “Is quite a fantastic mistranslation of a Galran cultural reference.”

“But…?” Lance encourages, he’s trying not to grin before Lotor does. They walk a little further, Lotor keeping his head down and his jaw set firm, which Lance knows means he’s close.

Finally, Lotor slouches back against the wall.

“But well done,” says Lotor, his mouth pulls uneven as he shakes his head. “You’ve thrown me for knowing any such reference at all.”

Lance leans on the wall opposite, smug and satisfied. When Lotor yawns into his fist, Lance offers him the mug of tea.

“Here,” says Lance, “it’s camomile. For before-bedtime. From Earth.”

“It’s gone cold and you’d rather not carry it,” Lotor surmises, and Lance can’t help laughing, Lotor’s sleepy enough that he smiles again.

“No, and no,” says Lance, presses the warm cup into Lotor’s hands. “Just for you to try. I would’ve made you one too.”

Lance finishes on a vague gesture- _if I’d known I’d bump into you-_ and Lotor seems to take his meaning. When they reach the door to Lotor’s bedroom, he nods his thanks and a brief mumble of goodnight.

Lance waits a few moments outside, wonders if Lotor’s actually going to taste-test it.

“Well?” he prompts, half hopeful.

“Ugh-” Lotor splutters a little, amused. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Lance gives Lotor’s door an affectionate bang with his fist before leaving. Lotor hits the other side in reply, and Lance walks back to his room with a silly, drowsy smile on his face.

 

-

 

Sometimes, if it’s getting to a week without an on-planet touchdown, walking isn’t enough.

“Out of my way, paladin!” Lotor will hiss, making no attempt to stick to his side of the passage as they pass each other at a swift jog.

“That’s a lot of sweat for your first lap!” Lance calls loudly back, to which Lotor whips around and snarls.

“Trotting around these halls is hardly a _lap_ ,” he says caustically. “I’ve been _training_ on the training deck for most of the evening.”

“Glad to hear it!” Lance yells over his shoulder. “Your aim was a bit off in that last skirmish!”

Lance picks up his pace as Lotor’s footsteps fade in the opposite direction- the kitchen galley is exactly halfway between their two routes, the last thing he wants is for Lotor to make it there first.

“I shouldn’t have finished that last milkshake-” Lance wails to himself a good ten minutes after, when he’s nearing the designated point and can see Lotor sprinting at full change. Lance grits his teeth and bolts with everything he has, his sides aching and his lungs burning, Lotor’s running like there’s no tomorrow, hair flying out behind.

“-your attempt will prove futile-!”

“-second place is the first loser-!”

Lotor flashes a sharp smile as he flies past the door, Lance grinning and swerving into Lotor’s path to pretend to trip him in the aftermath.

He realises far too late that Lotor really, _really_ isn’t expecting anything of the sort.

“Oh shoot-!” Lance yelps, the breath knocked out of him as Lotor sends them both spilling to the floor. “-sugar-honey-iced-tea-!”

Lance groans miserably, his nose stinging and lip numb where he face-planted. A stream of curses echoes down the passage from Lotor too, none in any language he can understand.

“-what by the _gods_ has possessed you-!” Lotor coughs, flat on his front, Lance is pretty sure his knee collided with Lotor’s ribs on the way down.

“I’m so sorry,” Lance manages, leans over and tries to pat Lotor on the back, inspects him for any injuries as Lotor coughs harder in protest. “Sorry. Sorry… I thought you were going to move.”

“-I’m fine,” Lotor snaps eventually, blinks to clear his eyes. “Your lip is bleeding.”

“I think I’ll pull through,” Lance jokes weakly, and Lotor flops onto his back, they both catch their breath staring up at the fluorescents.

“Galran swearwords are pretty wild, huh?” Lance tries after a while. Lotor shoots him an acid glare, relents to a softer one as Lance shuffles closer, offers his stomach for Lotor to use as a pillow.

“I was frightened I hurt you,” Lotor sighs, then shakes his head. Lance brims to a smile.

“You know-”

“Yes I know-” Lotor says dryly. “I’ve aimed far more lethal shots at all of you.”

They stay like that until Lance can’t help a shiver, his running clothes have now thoroughly cooled. Lotor glances up at him, then at the damp patch his hair has left on Lance’s sweater.

“You’re right, I should probably shower,” Lotor murmurs apologetically, pulls the front of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. When he gets up, he offers a hand to help Lance to his feet.

“Rematch tomorrow?” Lance suggests, when the path toward their rooms splits. Lotor growls something that sounds like another curse, and Lance’s limbs don’t feel quite so sore as he drags himself back to his bunk.

 

-

 

“You’re in my spot,” Lotor accuses, when he finds Lance sprawled on his back in the upper docking bay. It’s the only hanger where you can make the ceiling transparent, and though technically everything around them is stars and space…

It still gives Lance the illusion of looking up at the sky.

“Uh-uh,” Lance shakes his head. “I was chilling here from way _way_ back. Well before you came aboard.”

Lotor lays down some distance away, tucks an arm behind his head.

“I in fact recall _chilling_ here some ten thousand years ago,” he says lazily. “Well before _you_ boarded anything.”

“Lets just assume,” Lance returns, he rolls his eyes and unravels the thermo-blanket he’s brought down. “That the counter resets every thousand years. You know. Give or take.”

Lotor massages his thumb and index finger over the bridge of his nose. Lance turns to face him, elbow wedged to the ground and cheek resting in the heel of his hand.

“So, are you gonna tell me what distant planets we’re looking at, or...?”

Before Lance can finish, Lotor turns sharply aside, catches a harsh sneeze in his wrist.

“-bless you!” Lance blurts in surprise, forgets his teasing for a moment to be concerned. Lotor twists back around to scowl, then tries- and fails- to fight off several more.

“Aw, someone’s thinking of you,” Lance jokes, both sympathetic and amused as Lotor’s glare only darkens.

“Yes, who knows who,” Lotor returns unforgivingly, his voice still somewhat congested. “My father, or simply the entire Galra empire.”

Lance finishes untangling the thermo-blanket, throws it in Lotor’s general direction as a peace offering. They’re all at their limits, but Lotor’s seemed particularly under the weather since their last battle, and Lance figures the lack of sleep isn’t helping.

“That’s the Va’Kar quadrant,” Lotor says after a while, clears his throat and stares toward a wing-shaped cluster of stars. “Quite a number of planets with similar composition to your homeworld, in fact.”

“Yeah?” Lance ventures.

“Trees. Waterfalls. Tiny sea creatures that can kill you. That sort of thing.”

Lance smiles.

“I’ve met more sea creatures that can kill me out here than back home,” he offers, feels his eyes go a bit blurry as he remembers teaching his sisters how to swim in the ocean. Lotor doesn’t say anything, but he looks over when Lance accidentally sniffles.

“Sorry,” Lance laughs, wipes his nose on the inside of his sleeve. “Kind of drafty in here, huh?”

Lance turns away and smudges below his eyes too. Lotor unfolds the blanket from where it fell over his lap, then moves closer so Lance can share.

“Yes, a little,” Lotor says quietly.

For all of Lance’s exhaustion, it’s Lotor who falls asleep first, his head turned loosely toward Lance, lashes brushing over his lilac cheeks as he twitches every now and then. Lance wants to sleep too but he can feel his throat tightening- as teary as he gets thinking about his home and family, the truth is that Lotor doesn’t have either to go back to, and no amount of battles won will change it.

Lance covers his mouth to stifle a sob, but Lotor stirs anyway, gently pulls Lance into his shoulder.

“Ugh, I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight,” Lance manages, the warmth of Lotor’s chest feels unexpectedly comforting.

“Guilt from stealing my spot,” Lotor mutters. He hesitates, tries to rub Lance’s back as they both sniffle again, then pulls an expression of terrible distaste to make Lance laugh.

“If you'd like,” Lotor asks later, softly, when Lance’s breathing has steadied. “I can tell you something of my homeworld too.”

“Of course I would,” Lance whispers, then can’t help a shaky laugh. “I’m glad I haven’t freaked you out too much.”

“You’ll have to try harder next time,” Lotor offers, and Lance smiles, tucks closer in the blanket as they gaze at the constellations above.

 

-

 

Lance teaches him how to play videogames. Lotor finally explains the Galran story about the four moons. And then, all of a sudden, it stops. Lance can sleep through the night, he'll wake feeling rested instead of drained. Lotor can actually keep his eyes open at the breakfast table. While Lance is glad to have more energy and focus, sometimes he can’t help wishing he’d wake at least one midnight in a while… even just for one last brief walk.

Lance switches off his nightlight, stares at his bedroom ceiling. Even if he did, Lotor probably wouldn’t be there.

Lance lays still for a few seconds, then sits up again, switches the lamp right back on. He throws his dressing gown over his slacks and t-shirt, strides determinedly across the space and pulls open his door.

Standing in the passage is Lotor, hand raised as if about to knock, mouth parted in surprise.

“Hi,” Lance says with a start. “I was just about to visit you too.”

Lotor blinks, his eyes have that verge-of-sleep look to them that makes Lance feel nostalgic about all their crazy nights past.

“Were you?”

“Yeah,” Lance laughs. “Great minds.”

“As always,” Lotor smiles. Lance steps back so he can come in, and Lotor does, relaxed enough that he doesn’t hide his curiosity for the way Lance’s bedroom is arranged.

“How have you been?” Lotor says after a moment. “Still tripping people over?”

“I prefer the term  _flooring people with my good looks,_ ” says Lance, throws Lotor a sleepy grin. Lotor stifles a yawn, then raises a hand and aims his index finger and thumb toward Lance, a rough approximation of one of Lance’s favourite gestures. Lance finds himself laughing, and Lotor looks mildly pleased with himself.

“I’ve missed our conversations,” says Lotor.

He wanders over to the small collection of belongings Lance keeps on his shelf- a set of headphones, a hologram board game, an assortment of alien confectionary and a pretty looking rock that Lance found on one of their missions. Lotor gently pokes around, a less-readable expression crossing his face.

“I’ve missed you too,” Lance says softly.

“I’m sleeping better because of you,” Lotor says eventually, his shoulders dip as he lets out a breath. “I never thought I’d feel at ease on this craft.”

“Really?”

“Mmh. Yes.”

Lance flops across his bunk, moves over in case Lotor wants to lay down beside. At first Lotor seems to think he’s kidding, his expression softening on realising Lance is sincere. When Lance stretches and yawns widely Lotor gives up, arranges himself on his back too.

“More comfy than the floor of the hanger?” Lance hums, just having Lotor next to him makes him feel oddly soothed.

“Barely,” Lotor snips. “You should wash your sheets once in awhile.”

Lance grins.

“Are you staying?”

“If I’m permitted.”

Lance wraps Lotor’s arm over his middle, turns so his back is squashed against Lotor’s chest. Lotor makes a soft click with his throat, then slowly exhales, his body relaxing against the warmth of Lance’s.

“Better,” Lotor concedes, nudges his face to Lance’s shoulder.

“I’m glad,” Lance whispers through a smile.

When Lance wakes some hours later, Lotor’s arms are still twined around him, his breathing heavy and his hair tangled loosely across his face. Carefully, Lance shuffles over to face him, Lotor slitting open an eye, then closing it.

Lance lifts an arm over Lotor’s waist too. Lotor gently hugs him back.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!<3! comments & kudos are always adored and warmly appreciated :_))
> 
> my tumblr is [@sillyshiro](http://sillyshiro.tumblr.com/)! c:


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